


Tattoos and Lust

by mickmess



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: Las Vegas, M/M, One Night Stands, Poker, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:31:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickmess/pseuds/mickmess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending most of their time during a celebrity poker tournament having eye sex across the table, Jeff and Dave do some bonding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inked

Itching. Constant itching. Yet I can't do anything about it. What kind of a moron am I that I actually listened to Dave Navarro when he told me it'd be fun to get a tattoo? Since when am I stupid enough to listen to a rockstar when he tells me to do something? I know I've done some pretty idiotic things in my life, but this one just takes the cake. I'm Jeff Gordon, the clean-cut-do-what-I'm-told-sponsor-pleaser. I don't go out and get tattoos on a whim with a fucking ROCKSTAR. I blame this on Bravo. If they hadn't invited me to that damn poker tournament, I never would have met him in the first place.

I could blame this on Jimmie, too. Jimmie, who decided he'd rather stay home that weekend than come with me to Las Vegas for that tournament. He said he had some sponsor stuff to do and wanted to hang out with Chad for a while. Not that I believed him for a minute. I won't blame it on him though, even though if he HAD been there, it would've been easier for me to turn down Dave. All Jimmie has to do is look at me and everything else is easy to turn down. That's just the way it is with him. 

There's also the massive amount of White Russians I consumed during the course of that thing. I sat down and watched the show one day when it reaired for the thousandth time and couldn't believe how sober I looked. If they'd only known that the room was spinning by the time I walked off to the loser's lounge. Hell, I must've had at least four refills by the time I got there, and then another two or three while I waited for the game to end. My mind was just a bit distorted when Dave came over and asked me if I wanted to hang out for a while. I was too drunk to realize hanging out meant getting inked. 

That's a lie though. Those White Russians were way too weak to get me anything more than buzzed. I had complete control of my senses when Dave asked me to hang out. When we walked into the tattoo parlor in the casino, I figured I'd just talk to him while he got whatever it was branded into his skin and then we'd go for some drinks. Then he nudged me and gave me that devious rocker-smile and asked me what I was going to get. I almost fell down onto the floor laughing until I realized he was dead serious. I tried explaining to him that NASCAR has a policy about tattoos showing on drivers and how I'm not much for altering my body but he just laughed at me and told me there were plenty of places NASCAR would never see and that I wasn't altering my body, I was just decorating. He made it hard to say no, seeing as he found a rebuttal to every excuse I came up with.

It took him forty-five minutes, but I finally cracked. He told me to look around at all the artwork on the walls and find something I liked. For a brief moment, I pondered taking off while he was in the artist's chair with the needle buzzing along his skin, but then something snapped in my mind. The more I looked at all the artwork, the more I wanted to get a tattoo. Jimmie would have a heart attack when he saw it, and it'd be something to show off at the shop. It'd be something so out of the blue it'd knock everyone on their asses and it'd been way too long since I'd done something so out of the ordinary that everyone's jaw dropped. I started to get excited about the thought of getting a tattoo.

By the time Dave was done, I'd found two or three drawings that I really liked. One was just a simple cross, which suited me just fine, but he shot it down. Told me it was too plain and that I needed something really out-there for my first tattoo. I shrugged and let him drag me around to show me the ones he liked. It turned out that he pointed to a design I'd been mulling over so we both agreed I'd go for it. The next question was where would I have the design etched into my skin. My arms and legs were out of the question, because I'd never be able to wear shorts or t-shirts ever again. He mentioned my lower back but the thought of a needle jabbing into my spine scared the crap out of me. I finally decided I'd get it on my stomach, just above my left hip bone and he'd smirked at me like he knew something I didn't. When I asked him what the look was for, he'd just shook his head at me and called over the artist who'd taken care of him.

After getting the drawing copied over onto a piece of paper and going through the motions of picking a size and where exactly I wanted it, the artist transferred the ink onto my skin as a sort of stencil for him to go by. My heart was racing by this point and I was doing my best to keep my composure. I glanced over at Dave and caught his eyes trailing across my chest- I'd had to take my shirt off- and I could feel the goosebumps rising on my skin. He had the same glint in his eyes that Jimmie gets everytime he undresses me. I smirked to myself at that thought, but it faded quickly as I heard the buzzing from the needle. My head whipped around and my eyes widened when I saw the monstrosity in the artist's hand. He laughed at me and told me it looked a lot worse than it actually was, but before I could think of a response, he was lowering it to my skin.

I jumped and cursed loudly at the first touch of the needle to my skin and then glared over at Dave when he started laughing nonetooquietly. He laughed harder as my glare turned into a look of pain as the needle started moving to stencil out the drawing and I gave up trying to look menacing. I'd been told by numerous people that tattoos didn't hurt, that they were just irritating, but all those people were a bunch of fucking liars. I could feel myself getting lightheaded as the buzzing and sticking wore on and I sighed in relief when the artist picked the needle up to put more ink in. He glanced over at me and asked if I wanted anything- a lollipop or a glass of soda- to get my blood sugar up so I wouldn't pass out. I somehow managed to croak out that a Pepsi sounded like a good idea and a moment later Dave was in the room handing me a bottle with a straw poking out. He patted my chest and informed me that it happened to a lot of people. I arched an eyebrow at him as I leaned up on my elbow and took the bottle from him, knocking the straw to the side to take a long swig and he said simply, "Passing out."

After several moments of regaining my composure and licking my wounded pride, I laid back down on the table I'd been perched on and the artist went back to work. Now that I knew what I was up against, I was able to block out some of what was going on and dull my senses a bit. I started thinking of other things, like Jimmie, and racing, and what people would say when they saw the tattoo I'd gotten. I stole a glance at Dave and saw his eyes following the needle as it dragged along my skin. He was outside the room again, leaning on the sill of the viewing window looking all the part of "Rock and Roll Sex God". His hair, which had been gelled back and staying firmly in place during the poker game, was starting to fall and a few strands were draped over his eye. He would lick his lips randomly as he watched the artist work, like it was all a big turn-on for him.

That's when I noticed the fact that a familiar ache had started to form between my legs. I bit down on my lip as the artist finished up another line and said a silent string of curses in my head. I couldn't believe I was getting turned on through all of this. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the growing hardness in my jeans and attempted to convince myself it was just from adrenaline. Hell, there wasn't a race that went by that I didn't get turned on from the adrenaline pumping through my body. I started thinking of random stats to try and rid myself of the unwanted hard-on but it didn't help in the least. As the buzzing started up again I could feel the muscles in my groin tighten more and I knew that in a few more moments there'd be a completely noticeable bulge in my pants and the zipper would be digging into overly sensitive flesh.

After nearly half an hour of buzzing, pricking, and irritation, the artist pulled back and put the needle down on the tray next to him. I glanced down to look at my hip and grimaced when I saw the mess before me. Ink and blood were caked up in places and the flesh around it was a brilliant puffy-red. He splashed some rubbing alcohol onto a paper towel and started dabbing at the design, cleaning off the extra ink and blood and I sighed in relief when the design came into view. It didn't look halfbad. I glanced over at Dave to get his reaction, but his eyes weren't on my hip. Instead, they were looking lower, practically glued to the obvious state of things in my pants. I could feel myself turning a deep shade of red and quickly looked away from him, trying my best to shift around.

The artist slid away from the table and told me he was going to take a cigarette break before he started coloring the design in and patted my leg, telling me I could get up and walk around for a bit if I wanted. He walked out of the room as he pulled a pack of cigs from his shirt pocket and Dave walked in, sitting down on his stool. I started to pull myself into a sitting position but stopped midway and gasped when a sudden soreness shot through me and I quickly dropped back onto the table. 

Dave frowned and then laughed softly, "Yeah, you may not want to move just yet. It's going to be sore as hell for a while."

I glared at him, or tried to, and muttered, "Thanks for telling me that NOW."

He stood up and slid an arm around my shoulders, pulling me up into a sitting position before quickly tugging me off the table. I stumbled and bumped into him, luckily with my right side and not my left. He smirked and patted my back, "Better now?"

"Yeah. Thanks." I took a step back and leaned against the table for a moment before walking across the room to look at myself in the full length mirror hanging on the wall. The tattoo didn't look half bad, in fact, I kind of liked it. I studied it for a moment, how it fell just above the waist of my jeans, almost resting on my hipbone. I glanced up as Dave came up behind me, his chest brushing seductively against my back, sending a shiver up my spine. He rested his chin on my shoulder and caught my gaze in the mirror, my blue eyes meeting his almost black ones. His hands found my hips and he turned toward my ear slightly, still holding my gaze in the mirror as he whispered huskily, "It's a complete turn on, isn't it? The pain, the adrenaline, seeing something so sexy being formed on your body?"

I bit down on my lip as he leaned in closer to me, pressing himself a little harder against me and I could feel the erection in his tight leather pants pressing against the small of my back. As I was trying to come up with a reply, something to convince him I wasn't as turned on as I actually was, the artist walked back in and announced he was ready to color in my tattoo. I sighed in relief and made my way back over to the table, attempting to lay back down without killing myself. Of course, thanks to Dave the tent in my pants had only gotten bigger and it was embarrassing as hell.

Nearly forty-five painstaking minutes later, my tattoo was completely colored in and I was free to go. The tattoo artist handed me a paper with care instructions on it before cleaning it up a bit and slathering some ointment on it. He covered it up with a makeshift bandage made of paper towel and tape and tossed my shirt to me, which I barely managed to get back on on my own. The soreness in my stomach had only intensified as the coloring process wore on and it was a task just to sit and stand. He assured me I'd be fine by morning and I nodded slightly, handing him a roll of bills for the fee and tip.

As I walked out of the parlor, Dave was dangerously close to me, asking what I thought of my first tattoo experience. He rested an arm around my shoulders, looking for all the world like two pals just hanging out in a casino but I could feel the heat coming off his body, the tension built up between us, and the obvious state of arousal we were both enveloped in. I shrugged slightly, picking up my pace a little as I informed him it was more than likely my first and last. That had been the longest two hours of my life and I had no desire to repeat it. He smirked and told me I'd change my mind sooner or later, that tattoos were far too addicting to stop after the first one.

I hadn't been paying attention to where we were going until we were in an elevator and Dave was sliding his room key into the slot on the floor panel and hitting a button for one of the higher rooms. I raised an eyebrow at him, asking him where exactly where we were headed and he gave me that rocker-smile again.

"After an experience like that, it'd be a shame not to get trashed and glue some furniture to the ceiling." The elevator doors opened and he walked out ahead of me, tossing a look over his shoulder at me.

"You're kidding right? I am NOT trashing a hotel room, I don't care how shitfaced you get me. If NASCAR found out I'd be-"

"Are you ALWAYS this much of a tightass?"

I stopped in my tracks and gawked at him, not believing he'd just had the nerve to call me a tightass. He barely knew me. Hell, he'd just convinced me to get a tattoo and sat there to watch the entire process. I think that pretty much proved I was anything but. He laughed and rolled his eyes as he unlocked a door which obviously led to his room and insisted he was only teasing.

"You're just saying that to get me in your hotel room so you can try and have your way with me."

Now it was his turn to gawk at me. I gave him a triumphant grin and brushed passed him into his room, taking a quick survey of my surroundings. It looked just like any other hotel room. A huge king size bed sat in the center of the room, there was a desk, an armchair, a dresser with a tv on it, and a minifridge which I was sure was stocked full of whatever alcohol and foods he'd asked for. I heard the door click closed behind me and two hands pressed against my hips again. I felt his chin on my shoulder and the image of us from the tattoo parlor flashed through my head as he whispered into my ear again, his lips brushing against it as he did.

"Does this mean you're gonna let me in those pants, Mr. Gordon?"

A familiar shiver ran down my spine and my hands rested over his as I leaned my head back to look up at him. With a smirk I half-kidded, "Long as you don't tell my boyfriend."

He raised an eyebrow, "And here I was thinking you were a straightedge, hardcore Christian boy who eats his wheeties every morning and says his prayers every night."

I frowned and pulled away from him, turning to face him with my hands on my hips, "That's not funny."

"I was serious."

"...oh," I studied his face for a moment and decided he was telling the truth. Not a hint of a smile was on his lips, and his normally playful eyes were set on mine in a hard gaze. He made me nervous, in a good way, and I could feel myself getting more and more turned on under his scrutiny, which scared the shit out of me. I've never denied liking guys, but Dave was so far from my type, so far out of my league, that it just seemed wrong. Not that I'd admit to that.

He took a step toward me and I backed up slightly as his eyes locked on mine, "Do I scare you, Jeff?"

"A little." Ok, so I lied.

He smirked and moved in toward me, backing me up until I was pressed flush against the wall at the opposite end of the room. He moved in on me until we were only centimeters apart, his hands resting on the wall on either side of my neck. My pulse sped up and my breathing got shallow as I looked up at him, balling my sweaty hands into fists at my sides. I couldn't believe it was possible for me to be this turned on by a guy like Dave. He was covered in tattoos and hair gel and piercing and he was so...so...NOT Jimmie.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Jeffrey?" He bent his head down slightly so our lips were a nanosecond away from touching, "You thinking about what it'd be like to get fucked by a rockstar? What it'd be like to be a bad boy for once, and not such a goodygoody? Wondering what your boyfriend would think if he found out?"

Oh good Christ, I couldn’t take much more. I whimpered softly, biting down hard on my lip as my body trembled. I wanted nothing more than for him to throw me down on the bed and have his way with me. Hell, I'd even settle for him turning me around and pinning me against the wall and fucking me right there. It didn't matter. In an act of complete boldness that I mustered up from somewhere deep inside me, I reached up and gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him in against me as I tilted my head up and pressed my lips to his. He hesitated only a moment before pressing himself hard against me, returning my kiss hungrily as one of his hands tangled itself in my hair, pulling on it hard.

After a long moment he pulled away and smirked at me, dropping his hand from my scalp to my shoulder. He cocked an eyebrow at me and laughed softly, informing me I was a far better kisser than he'd expected. I laughed in reply and said he pretty much lived up to my standards. Several seconds later I found myself face up on the bed. He stood at the foot of it, slowly pulling his shirt off to reveal a chest and abdomen covered in ink and two glinting nipple rings and I licked my lips as my eyes trailed along his body.

He climbed up onto the bed, crawling his way over me and I could feel every nerve in my body burning as he leaned down to kiss me again. My hands slid around to his back, nails dragging down slowly and he arched into my touch as his lips made their way down my jaw to my neck, my neck to my collarbone before pulling away and leaning back to look down at me. His fingers slid around the hem of my shirt and he pulled it up slowly, tugging it off as I attempted to sit up only to hiss in pain. He smirked at me and the fact that I'd already forgotten about the bandaged tattoo on my hip as he tossed my shirt to the side and went to work on my jeans.

As the button snapped open and the zipper came undone I sighed softly, glad to have a bit of relief from the constricting material. He shifted around, getting up off the bed as he tugged my pants off, pulling my boxers down with them before yanking my shoes off so he could shove everything to the ground. He locked his eyes on mine as he started unfastening his own pants and I watched in amazement as he kicked out of the seemingly glued on leather. I trailed my eyes over his body, taking in every detail possible as he smirked at me, asking if I saw something I liked. I pushed myself up a bit, resting back on my elbows and gave him a smirk of my own, replying with, "Something like that."

In a blink of an eye he was back on the bed, kissing me again but with much more need this time. He pressed his body hard against mine as he straddled my hips, pressing his erection hard against my own. I moaned deep in my throat and arched against him, lifting my hips up to meet him. He gasped against my lips at my seemingly bold actions and pulled back a little, "Weren't lying about that boyfriend, were you?"

I laughed and shook my head, "Ever heard of Jimmie Johnson?"

He raised an eyebrow, "No shit."

"Not in the least."

He shifted over so he could reach in a drawer of the nightstand next to us and I watched as he pulled out a familiar looking tube and a foil packet. I smirked at him, refusing to admit that it actually surprised me to see him using condoms. He winked at me as he tore it open and slid it into my hand, "I'm assuming they taught you how to use these back in highschool."

"Never seen one in my life," I snickered and trailed my fingers over his shaft as I slid the rubber over him, watching as he bit down on his lip, trying to fight back a moan. My snicker quickly turned into a moan of my own as I felt a slicked finger press into me, followed quickly by another. My task complete, my hands dropped down to the comforter and twisted it in my hands as he pumped his fingers into me slowly.

A moment later his fingers were replaced with the head of his shaft and I tightened my grip on the comforter a bit in anticipation. I wanted nothing more than for him to fuck me through the mattress but he apparently didn't see things my way as he worked himself into me slowly, his hands on my hips keeping me from moving against him. I moaned softly as he slid into me, and grinded his hips against mine. I lifted my eyes up to meet his and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin hard.

"Dave I swear to god if you don't cut the teasing and fuck me, I'm going to- OH FUCK." My threat got cut off as he pulled out of me and slammed back in hard. Without missing a beat he started thrusting hard into me, his hips rocking against mine quickly. I gasped and moaned loudly, arching against him as I bucked my hips up to meet his thrusts. He buried his face in my neck, biting and sucking hard as he thrusted into me, a hand snaking between us to wrap tightly around my shaft and stroke me in time with his thrusts. I dragged my nails down his back as I arched into him, panting into his ear, begging him for more.

"Fuck, right there..oh god don't stop.." I bit down on his earlobe and he moaned, bucking his hips harder as he stroked me faster. I could feel every muscle in my body tensing as he worked himself against me and my veins pumped fire through my body. I could feel him starting to tense up as well and whimpered, "Let it go, Dave. Fuck me..make me come.."

As if he'd been waiting for an invite or an ok, he let out a moan that sounded more like a growl and pressed himself into me harder, pounding into me and stroking me faster causing me to arch up off the bed trying to match his motions. In seconds we were both tumbling over the edge, coming together in a massive ball of sweat, moans, and shaking so badly we could barely breath. He collapsed on top of me, panting heavily as I listened to my heart pounding in my ears. He pulled out of me a moment later and rolled onto his back, our legs still somewhat tangled together.

He glanced over at me as he took several deep breaths and smirked as our eyes met. I took a few deep breaths of my own and ran a hand through my hair as I calmed myself down before mumbling, "That was fuckin' incredible."

I wound up spending the night in his hotel room, repeating our performance several times before we both passed out from sheer exhaustion. Our sleep got cut short by a five AM wake up call, which left us both scrambling for clothes and belongings, trying to get ourselves back together. I still had to make my way back to the Hard Rock Hotel, several blocks away so I could pack my stuff and make a 6:45 flight to Mooresville. We exchanged numbers and said a hasty "See you later" as I ran out the door and rushed to find a cab to bring me to my own hotel.

Hours later I was sitting on a plane to North Carolina, about to fall asleep when a stinging pain in my hip jolted me awake. Fuck. My tattoo. Its existence had gone unnoticed since the moment I'd stepped foot into Dave's hotel room the night before and I suddenly remembered that I'd needed to clean it and toss the bandage much earlier on in the day. I stood up and made my way to the tiny airplane bathroom in the first class section I was sitting in and pulled the door open, maneuvering my way in. With a bit of effort I managed to pull off my shirt and slowly peeled the tape off my skin, grimacing as it fought to stay in place. I balled up the paper towel and shoved it into the garbage before looking at my tattoo in the mirror. It was caked with dried up blood and bits of ink, making it look far less than attractive. I pulled some papertowels from the dispenser and wet them before gingerly dabbing at the design, managing to clean it without killing myself. I had nothing to put over it so I shrugged slightly and made a mental note to pick up some Neosporin on my way home before pulling my shirt back on and heading back to my seat.

By the time the plane landed I'd managed to get several hours of sleep and was back to feeling somewhat human. I made my way into the airport and smiled when I saw Jimmie waiting for me in baggage claim. He drove me home and stayed for a little while as I regaled him with stories of my Sin City trip, leaving out the part about "hanging out" with Dave after the poker tournament.

It's been a week since that night and all I can think about is the constant itching at my left hip. The instructions mentioned itching during the healing process, but this is ridiculous and it's all I can do not to claw my skin off. I sigh softly as I slouch back in my office chair, digging my nails into the arms to avoid scratching. The night after I came home, Jimmie and I had met up and gone back to his place for a night of catching up, but the moment he took my shirt off and caught sight of my tattoo, all plans went out the window. I'd forced myself to tell him the whole story of what had happened and he'd been less than thrilled. In fact, he kicked me out of the house. Part of me feels like shit for cheating on him, but the other half can't help but laugh. Who'd have thought that me, Jeff "Stick-Up-The-Ass" Gordon, would have ever fucked Dave Navarro and come home with a tattoo to boot?


	2. Joker's Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Jeff has a surprise reunion with Dave Navarro
> 
> RATING: NC-17  
> COMPLETED: 05/07/08

_The Palms Casino; Las Vegas, NV  
Las Vegas Testing 2008_

I love coming to Vegas. I love the lights and the sounds, I love the people and the atmosphere. I love wandering into casinos and being just another face in the crowd. I like being able to walk into the high stakes areas and sit down at a poker table and not have fifty thousand people following after me looking for an autograph or a picture. I like seeing all the celebrities who are doing the same thing I’m doing: trying to blend in as much as possible so they can relax for a couple hours. We all just want to kick back and play a few hands of poker; Texas Hold ‘Em or 5 Card stud, maybe even Pai Gow. The last time I was out here I was at a table with Ben Affleck and James Caan. We all knew who the others were, but none of us acknowledged it. It’s like this unwritten celebrity rule that we all pretend to be anonymous. Whatever gets us through the night, I guess.

This time around is no different. Ingrid and I have a suite at the Palms, in the new tower that’s just been completed. Ella’s back in Charlotte with my mom, who offered to watch her while I’m testing for the next couple of days, here and in California. I miss her something awful, but at the same time it’s a bit of a blessing. She’s seven months old now and incredibly mobile. She’s safer at home with my mom than in a hotel suite with Ingrid and I. Not to mention we’d really like some time off from being parents to have a little fun. What better place to get into a little trouble than in the midst of sin city?

Of course, Ing’s not feeling well so she’s up in the suite sleeping. So I’m here alone at nearly midnight, in an almost empty casino playing some no limit Hold ‘Em. There’s only one other person at the table and it’s quickly getting boring. He’s constantly folding or checking and it’s making for one long, drawn out game that’s got me wishing Penn Jillette was here to scream “Jeff Gordon goes all in!” like he would every time I played a hand back when we were a part of that poker tournament. As annoying as it was at the time, at least he kept me entertained. This guy looks about as boring as his cheap twill suit. He must be a business man here for the weekend, trying to sell some big corporate account while his wife and kids are back in the snow somewhere, missing him.

The hair at the back of my neck suddenly stands on end and my skin tightens up as chill bumps raise up on my arms. There’s someone behind me, dangerously close. It’s making me increasingly uncomfortable, but I’m afraid to turn around for fear of it being a fan wanting to join in on the game so he can have a conversation with me. I just want to be left alone. I begin debating on an escape plan, but my thoughts cease to exist when I feel breath on my cheek as lips brush seductively against my ear. I know damn well it’s not Ingrid. She doesn’t have a beard, for one, and she would never sneak up on me like this. She knows how jumpy I get. My brain starts sounding the panic alarm but then a voice is whispering in my ear and I know immediately who it is. This time it’s my heart’s turn to stop.

“Gonna go all in, Jeff Gordon?” A hand brushes the small of my back and my body stiffens, my jaw clenching as I fight off the shiver his touch sends through me.

I turn in my chair, nearly kissing him as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze, “Dave…hi…” I swallow thickly, running a hand through my hair, uncomfortable with his closeness. I lean back a little, trying to get some air between us but he only leans toward me, refusing to give me any personal space.

“Mm…four years and all you have for me is a Dave, hi?” He arches an eyebrow and sticks his lush bottom lip out at me in a pout, tattooed arms crossing over his chest. He’s toying with me and I know it but I’m honestly too shocked at his presence to do much more than stare at him. He looks incredible, as usual. Tight pants, tighter shirt, hair gelled back like always. There’s a hint of eye liner around his eyes but that doesn’t surprise me. 

“I…I…” I struggle to think of something to say as he slips onto the stool to the right of me gracefully, dropping some bills on the table to join in on the game. I guess my distraction turned off the businessman because he gathers up his chips and takes off, leaving me alone with Dave Navarro. He gives me his rocker smile as he piles up his chips and takes the cards dealt to him, motioning for me to do that same. I fumble with my cards, staring at them blankly. There’s a king of hearts and a 6 of clubs. I’ve got nothing but Dave’s already dropping three hundred dollars onto the felt and looking at me expectantly. I’ve only got a thousand dollars on the table, but I can‘t fold so soon.

“So, Jeff, what have you been up to the past few years, hm? The way you dropped off my radar I figured you died or something.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye as we wait for the flop to come out and I shrug flippantly.

“Been around. Racing and stuff, you know? What have you been up to? I heard about you and Carmen…sorry things didn’t work out for you…” I’m completely sincere. I remember vividly how much he loved her. After our initial meeting we’d spent several hours discussing the women in our lives. At that point I’d only just started casually seeing Ingrid, while still sleeping with Jimmie in secret. I wonder if he even knows we’re married with a baby now, and that Jimmie dropped me like a bad habit when I came home from that tournament freshly tattooed and thoroughly fucked.

“Don’t sweat it, Gordo,” He grimaces at the flop and tosses his cards back to the dealer. I take the few chips slid my way and stack them up neatly with the rest of my pile, “We’re still really good friends, thankfully. It just occurred to us that when married we’re not compatible. She‘s all about the white and I‘m all about the black. Couldn‘t find the gray as easily.”

I nod in response, trying to lose myself in the game for a few minutes. I’m now incredibly aware of my hip, can almost feel the tattoo there on my skin. A hand falls down to it out of instinct, resting over it as I tap my cards on the table, debating whether or not to bet on the 10 and jack of clubs. I decide to go for it and raise the blind in front of me another hundred or so. He matches me and the flop comes out as I steal a glance at him. He looks as amazing as the last time I saw him. If I’m being entirely honest with myself, he’s crossed my mind several times since we first met. We’d spoken on the phone here and there for almost six months after the tournament but our lives were getting in the way too much for us to meet up again. Even when I was in California for races I could never seem to find the time to get up to LA to visit him.

“How’s that woman you were seeing? You two still together or did something else come along?” There’s not even the tiniest bit of venom in his voice and I know he’s just curious. Dave’s not the type to ever get insulting or throw punches around. He’s far too laid back to ever hold a grudge, especially over a one night stand. He matches my raise when the turn card comes out and I smile softly at the thought of Ingrid sleeping upstairs, and Ella back home hopefully sound asleep for my mom.

“We’re married, actually…It was a year in November. We have a daughter too, Ella Sofia. She’s seven months old. She was born June 20th, she’s gorgeous, absolutely perfect…” I know I’m doing it again, going on and on about my daughter, but I can’t help it. Since the day Ingrid found out she was pregnant that baby has been my entire life. Nothing comes before my Ella. Nothing.

“Sounds like you’re smitten, Gordo.” He flashes me a smile and turns his cards over after our last round of betting. He’s got a ten-high straight, but I beat him with my flush. I take my winnings from the dealer, laughing softly as Dave curses me playfully under his breath. The longer he sits next to me, the more my body aches for him as my brain pulls up all the details of that night so many years ago.

“Yeah…yeah, I guess I am.” The next cards get dealt and I have to fight not to react to the pocket aces. He sees my face before I can collect myself, though, and laughs softly, tossing his cards back to the dealer. Obviously he had a terrible hand, otherwise he would have at least humored me. At least this is just a friendly game over pocket cash and not some huge tournament with millions at stake. I slide my cards back to the dealer and wait for the next hand. I turn to look at Dave full-on this time, my stomach doing little backflips as I see him stroking his beard and looking at me with untamed lust in his eyes. Apparently our little tryst is at the front of his mind as well.

“So…your wife and kid…are they here with you? Or is this one of those business trips where you’d rather spend a couple days alone?” There’s a dangerous edge to his voice now and it makes my head spin. He can’t possibly be attracted to me after all the time that’s gone by. I’m not even the same person I was back then. Not that he could even know that, considering we lost touch less than a year later. Still though, the lust is blazing in those dark eyes and the thought of having him pound me into the middle of next week sends thrills shooting through me, each jolt leaving a pleasantly familiar feeling in my groin. I realize my mouth is so dry I can barely swallow and reach for my glass of water, taking a long drink from it, unable to tear my eyes from his as I do.

“Ella’s home with my mom…but Ingrid’s here with me. She wasn’t feeling well, though, so she stayed up in the room tonight…” I take another sip of water before setting the glass back down. He doesn’t look the least bit disappointed and that worries me, just a little bit, “We’re here for testing. Spending three days in Vegas and then we go to Fontana for a few more days…” I take my newest cards and glance at them. Nothing nearly as exciting as the last hand, but still playable. I look over to see if he’ll bet, but he seems to have lost interest in the game entirely. His eyes are still locked on me, fingers brushing seductively along the leather arm rest that rims the table. I swallow hard and do my best to keep calm.

“Think she’ll be calling you anytime soon to see what kind of trouble you’re getting into?” His voice is low and intense, his eyes smoldering as they burn into my own. My heart skips a beat and I realize that my brain has stopped functioning again. All I can do is stare back into his onyx gaze, defenseless against him. I know exactly what he wants and I’m so weak that I couldn’t say no to him even if I wanted to. It’s incredible that even with so much time gone by, so many things changed, I still can’t resist him. First it was a tattoo, then a one night stand, and now…now? Fuck, I think I might drop to my knees for him right here in the middle of the casino if he asked me to.

“No…she’ll probably sleep right till the alarm goes off in the morning,” My voice breaks as I answer him and I can feel the blood rushing to my face. How does he do this to me? I’ve never been so easily breakable, even back when I was still under the brainwashing effects of my ex-wife. Not even Jimmie could fluster me as quickly as Dave is right this second. Of course…Jimmie was never as off limits as Dave is right this second. Jimmie was never as dangerous or dark or so very seductive. Jimmie was a conquest, a pet project, someone to pass the time with. Dave…he’s every deep, dark, dangerous thing I’ve ever craved all rolled into one. He’s also more than willing to let me have him.

He drops his cards on the table and starts to collect his chips, “Think I’m bored with cards. How about we go for a walk, Gordo? Catch up with one another in a more…intimate…setting?” His tongue traces along his lips as his eyes once again grab hold of my own and I find myself nodding and mimicking his actions without even thinking about it. I pick up my chips and pocket them as he links an arm through mine and leads me away from the safety of the high stakes area and out onto the main floor of the casino. It’s near one in the morning now and even more desolate than it was an hour ago. Tired looking security guards and bored cocktail waitresses mingle intermittently on the floor, not taking any notice of us.

“Dave?” I finally find my voice again, fighting the urge to turn and look at him, afraid that if I do I’ll wind up losing myself in him for good, “Where are we going?”

There’s a hint of mischief in his voice when he answers me, “Oh, I don’t know. Thought maybe we could get a couple more tattoos to celebrate this chance meeting here in Las Vegas. What are the odds that we’re both in the high stakes area of The Palms at this hour, in the middle of winter?” He laughs when I turn and look at him, completely horrified. Coming home with a tattoo four years ago was one thing, but to do it now…Ingrid would know in seconds what it’d taken Jimmie almost an entire day to realize, “I’m kidding Jeff, calm down. You nearly died from that dinky little thing on your hip, I can only imagine what would happen to you if you got one across your back or something.”

“Uh-huh, right. Whatever you say, Navarro. Of course, it’s not like you have much room left on your skin for anymore tattoos. How many do you have now, anyway?” My eyes skim over the exposed flesh of his arms, taking in all the foreign-yet-familiar designs etched into them. I don’t see any that look out of place since the last time I saw him, but then, it’s kind of hard to tell considering he has so many of them. My mind drifts back to our time together in the tattoo parlor in this very casino and I start to wonder how his bats turned out after they healed. I’d been entranced by my tattoo when I’d returned to Charlotte, watching it every day to see how it would end up. I spent hours staring at myself, shirtless in the mirror, my pants slung low on my hips to get the full effect. As turned off as I’d once been by the thought of defacing my body, I had to admit that there was a certain sex appeal that came along with it. In fact, Ingrid had nearly orgasmed just at the sight of it the first time she saw me shirtless. I never did tell her when or where I’d gotten it. She has no idea about Jimmie and I, so how could I ever tell her about my night of rock and roll debauchery with Dave Navarro? The less she knows of my past exploits the better. 

A feeling of déjà vu washes over me as we walk onto an elevator and Dave hits a floor number on the panel. I watch silently as the numbers light up one after another until the doors open on the 23rd floor. He leads me off and down a hallway which looks all too familiar and it occurs to me: we’re going to his room, again. The only thing that frightens me is that I can’t find it in me to protest. I want to go with him. I want to lock myself away in there with him and forget all about my wife and daughter while I get on my knees for him again. As hard as I try to find my voice, it’s just out of reach, refusing to cooperate. It’s only when the card reader beeps and the little green light comes on that I manage to flip my brain back on.

“Dave, wait.” I plant my feet on the ground, watching as he stops with the door cracked open to turn back to me. There’s a bit of disappointment in his eyes, like he saw this coming, but the lust is still blazing, “Dave, I…I can’t do this. I can’t. I want to, honest to god, I do, but I can’t do this to Ingrid. Or to Ella.” My body screams at me, the raging hard on in my jeans defying what I’ve just said. Physically, I am more than capable of going through with this. I am more than ready and willing to spread my legs for him again. Mentally though…I’d never be able to forgive myself for cheating on my wife.

Dave suddenly turns defiant, glaring right through me as if he can see exactly what I’m thinking. He tightens his grip on my wrist and pulls me into the room before I can even manage a protest and shoves me up against it as it slams shut, kissing me roughly. I gasp into his lips, forcing myself not to kiss him back but with no luck. Before I can register what’s going on, our tongues are wrestling for control and his hands are sliding up under my shirt. I moan softly, arching into the feel of his rough hands gliding over my skin, my own hands coming up to tangle in his hair. He presses his body flush against my own, grinding himself shamelessly against me.

After a moment he breaks the kiss and pulls back, both of us gasping for air, our bodies trembling. I muster up whatever strength I can find and plant my hands on his chest, gently pushing him back away from me, “Dave, stop. Just stop, okay? I can’t do this. I shouldn’t be here. My wife’s in the same damn hotel as us, our daughter-”

“Oh give it a rest, Gordon. God, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still a good little Christian boy, pretending to play by the rules.” He glares at me intently, eyes black with lust, “You and I both know what a whore you are, so stop trying to deny it. Being in a relationship didn’t stop you last time, so it’s certainly not going to be a good excuse this time. You want this just as much as I do. Your cock is just as hard as mine is, and nothing you can say is going to change that. So either shut up and fuck me or I pin you down and take what I want the hard way.”

No one has ever spoken to me like this, ever. Not Ingrid, not Jimmie, not even my parents have ever verbally bitch slapped me like Dave just did. And it turns me on all the more. My body goes rigid and I bite back a moan as he shoves my hands off his chest and comes at me again, kissing me with twice as much force as before. He’s right. I can’t deny him. I want him, badly, and I’m sick of pretending otherwise. There’s always been a part of me that could never be satisfied by women, and it’s something I’ve learned to live with. If it comes down to Ingrid finding out, all I can do is beg for mercy and pray that she someday finds a way to forgive me.

Before I know it, we’re on the bed and Dave’s hands are all over me. Under my shirt, down my chest, over the bulge in my jeans. I moan and writhe beneath him, whimpering and moaning like a bitch in heat. It’s incredible how little it takes for him to make me into a squirming mess. I watch as he sits up and pulls his shirt off, those infamous nipple rings glinting invitingly in the dim light of the bedside lamp. I lick my lips, imagining what kind of delectable sounds I can make come out of him when I get my mouth on one of those.

“See something you like, Gordo?” He’s smirking at me now, as if he could read my thoughts and I can only nod as the intensity in his eyes pins me down to the mattress. His hands slip under my shirt, pushing it up my chest until I have to lift my arms for him to yank it off. The chilled air hits my skin and sends a shiver down my spine, one that sends tiny electric jolts through my veins. His fingers work deftly on my jeans and in seconds I’m completely naked beneath him, squirming under his gaze. It’s like the first time, all over again. I don’t know what to expect out of him, but I do know that if he doesn’t act quickly I’m going to toss him onto his back and take what I want.

“Dave if you so much as even THINK about teasing me, I swear to god you’ll live to regret it.” My voice is deep and dangerous, eyes narrowing into a glare that takes every bit of energy in me to keep focused. He seems a bit shocked, not at all expecting me to be so forward and demanding. It’s not my style with him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he licks his lips and quickly sheds his tight leather pants. My eyes rake down his body, taking in every curve and dip, every piercing and bit of ink on his skin. There’s new tattoos on his hip bones; shooting stars pointing directly toward his cock. Clever, yet still incredibly sexy. 

“Live to regret it, hm?” He crawls over me and straddles my hips, staring back at me defiantly, “And how exactly do you plan on punishing me if I don’t fuck you, hm? What’re you gonna do to me, Jeff?” He leans back a bit, resting his hands on my thighs so he’s spread out before me in all his Rock and Roll glory. I bite back a moan at the sight of him, my cock twitching as his ass brushes against it.

Push myself up onto my elbows and glare at him, “God dammit Navarro if you brought me up here just to fuck with me then let me the hell up right- OHFUCK!” I throw myself back down onto the mattress, my back arching up as one of his hands slips between my legs and one long finger presses into my ass. He watches me intently, working his finger hard and fast into me as I squirm and moan beneath him.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man and the intrusion is less than pleasant at first. I know damn well that if I can just relax enough the discomfort will go away, but it’s getting to that point that drives me mad. His hand disappears and I go to protest but he leans down to kiss me roughly, swallowing up the words before they can get out. In seconds he’s hovering over me again, slipping a condom down onto his cock. I watch him, my body pumping liquid fire as he slicks himself up with lube he must keep on him for situations just like this. Swallow hard as he tugs my legs up onto his shoulders, positioning himself so the head of his cock teases my entrance.

“Do it…fuck me, Dave…” Instead of forceful, my voice is whiney, coming out more like begging than demanding. I squirm against him, lifting my hips to try and urge him on but he holds still, his hands gripping my legs tightly to keep me in place. “Dave, fuck, please. Stop teasing!” And there’s the growl I’d been trying for the first time, angry and frustrated, just wanting to feel his cock buried inside of me.

As if he was waiting for the same thing, Dave rolls his hips, entering me in one fluid motion. We both gasp and moan simultaneously, the feeling overwhelming us both. I reach up over my head, gripping the headboard tightly as he works himself against me, hips rocking hard and fast, thrusting into me over and over. My back arches and my ankles lock behind his head as he leans into me more, filling me deeper with every buck of his hips. 

“Fuck, Jeff…so god damn tight…” His voice is throaty and deep in my ear as he leans into me more, so my knees hit my shoulders. I can only manage a moan in response, long and loud into his ear, my back arching more as I try to grind myself against him. Dave’s in complete control and he knows it. He’s got me pinned down to the bend, folded in half and I’m merely along for the ride as he takes exactly what he wants from me. The feeling of being used, being so thoroughly fucked, is enthralling and soon his name is a mantra on my lips, louder and louder with every thrust.

My body starts to tense, toes curling as my heart beats loudly in my ears and I can hear myself begging him for more, begging him to make me come. The edge of the headboard is digging painfully into the palms of my hands, but I can’t feel much more than a dull throb. I know that as soon as I come it’ll hurt like a bitch, but for right now I can’t seem to care. I grip it tighter, arms tensing up as my eyes squeeze shut. I’m so god damn close, but he refuses to let me come, pulling back at the last possible second over and over until I’m seeing stars and screaming for it. I manage to release the headboard and bring my hands down to wrap around him, nails digging violently into his flesh as I rake them up and down his back.

“Fuck! Dave, god dammit…please…please, god, please!” Words come flying out of my mouth, probably making no sense at all but I can barely breathe right now, let alone think straight. One hand comes up to tangle in his hair, yanking at it with as much force as I can muster and he responds by biting down hard on the curve of my neck. I let out a yelp of pain but tilt my head despite it, giving him better access to the tender flesh. His tongue traces along the bite marks and my entire body shivers, screaming for release.

Finally I feel a hand wrap around my cock, the rough skin stroking me in time with erratic thrusts. A calloused thumb drags over my head and my breath catches in my throat as he chooses that exact moment to angle his thrusts just right. I throw my head back, howling out my release to the ceiling as I come in a white hot flash that sends black spots dancing along my vision. So lost in my ecstasy as I am, it barely registers when he comes seconds after me, burying himself to the hilt inside of me as he screams my name.

It feels like hours before we’re finally able to untangle ourselves. My legs fall numbly to the bed and I grunt as he withdraws from me, landing ungracefully in a heap to my right. The only sound in the dimly lit room is the two of us panting as we try to recover from the round of mind-blowing, Earth-shattering fucking that just went on. My eyes drift closed, an arm draped over them lazily to block out the light as I try to regain my bearings. Beside me, Dave sprawls out on his back, humming contentedly.

Several seconds go by before I realize that my phone is ringing. Somewhere in the piles of dirty clothes on the floor, my phone is trapped in a pocket, vibrating and blaring some ridiculous song Casey set as my ring tone earlier in the day as a joke while we were at testing. With all the effort I can muster up, I roll onto my stomach and grope around on the floor until I find my pants. It takes another few seconds before I find the right pocket and manage to pull the phone out, squinting against the glare of the Call ID. It’s Ingrid, of course. No one else would be calling me at…I look around for a clock, grimacing when I see it’s almost five in the morning. The alarm must be going off by now and she’s no doubt worried sick about why I’m not in the room.

“Jeff? Jeff, baby, where are you? I woke up and you’re not here and I thought maybe you’d set the alarm wrong but it’s quarter to five and-”

“Ing, calm down…I’m okay.” I smile softly at the worry in her voice. It always amazes me at just how much and how deeply she cares for me, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I lost track of time. I bumped into an old friend while I was in the casino and we got to talking…I didn’t even realize how late it is…” I swallow thickly, hating the fact that I’m lying to her. I’ve never lied to Ingrid, not even a tiny little fib. Part of me knows that eventually I’m going to come clean about this.

“Jeff, you haven’t slept? Baby, you have to test today, you’re going to be exhausted! Maybe we should call Mr. Hendrick and see if he’ll let you skip the morning session…” Her honey-sweet voice sends a shiver of warmth through me. I love this woman more than life itself.

“No, no. It’ll be alright, I’ll just sleep during the lunch break. I’m so sorry, Ing, I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m on my way up to the room right now…”

We say our goodbyes and I leap out of the bed, rambling an apology to Dave as I hurry to get my clothes back on. I smell like him, no doubt, and there’s no way of hiding the freshly fucked look on my face, but I’ll deal with that when I get up to the room. I turn to look at Dave, but stop when I realize he’s passed out cold. Well that makes things easier. I make sure I have everything before leaving him a quick note explaining my abrupt departure and slip out of the room. Half of my brain is trying to make me feel guilty about cheating, but the other half is still basking in the afterglow.

I run a hand through my hair and swallow hard as I reach my hotel room door, silently rehearsing my apology and plea for forgiveness.


	3. King of Spades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Help comes in the least likely of places sometimes.  
> CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Dave Navarro, Jeff POV  
> COMPLETED: August 14, 2008

Stinging.

Pounding.

Throbbing. 

I can actually feel the imprint of her hand on my face. I can feel the exact point where her hand made contact with my cheek, nearly snapping my head all the way around. It’s been two days but I can still feel it, fresh as anything. She wouldn’t even say a word to me. She packed and stormed out and didn’t look back once. Her phone’s been turned off since she left. There’s no answer on the house phone. My mom claims she hasn’t seen her. No one knows where she is. God, I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I fucked up the best thing going in my life for a night with…

…with him. With fucking Navarro. AGAIN. I still can’t believe it happened. The first time was surreal enough, but to bump into him again after so many years and have the attraction still be so strong…to let him lure me into his bed so willingly again, even with my entire life on the line…I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. 

Fuck I should have at least showered before I went back to my room. Gotten the smell of sex and rock and roll off of me somehow. I never would have been able to wipe the freshly-fucked look off my face, but at least I wouldn’t have smelled like him. Smelled like the mind-blowing sex I’d had for hour after hour, well into the morning. No, I ran up to my room like an idiot, my clothes rumpled, my hair askew, stinking like Dave Navarro. It’d taken her all of five seconds to know why I’d been gone all night. 

She’d taken it with more grace than I’d ever imagined she could. She didn’t cry or scream or call me names. She stared me in the eye and asked the only thing that mattered, “Who?”

I couldn’t have lied to her even if I’d wanted to. His name rolled off my tongue before my brain could even process what she’d asked. There’d been a moment of stunned silence between us. For a moment she looked like she thought I was making it up. Like maybe she thought I was trying to get her to laugh or somehow change the subject. In that instant, I’d wished with all my might that she could read my mind and understand. I mentally kicked myself for not coming clean about my past. I should have told her about Jimmie, about Dave, about the whole sordid tale behind the tattoo on my hip. It was too late for any of that now, though. The damage had been done and there was no going back.

I’d watched on helplessly as she stormed through the suite, angrily packing up all of her belongings. There were a million things I’d wanted to say to her, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. My mind screamed at her, pleaded with her not to go, but my mouth never moved. My jaw was glued shut and no matter how hard I pulled, I couldn’t get it open. I’d watched on mutely as she gathered everything up and walked to the door, turning to face me before she left. Her eyes blazed with the hurt and betrayal, but she hesitated a moment before reaching for the doorknob. I forced all the emotion I could into my eyes, pleading with her not to go, but instead of saying a word in response, her hand came up and clapped hard against the side of my face, the smack ringing out through the room. 

She was gone before I could even make a sound.

It’s been two days and I’ve gone completely numb, aside from the stinging patch of skin on my face. That second day of testing in Vegas was miserable. I couldn’t concentrate and with the winds gusting like they were I could barely keep the car on the track. I’d somehow managed to make it through the day without incident and before I knew it I was in California, sitting alone in my coach. This whole place screams her name. It smells like her and looks like her, and all of Ella’s things aren’t helping with my grief. What if she runs away from me and takes our daughter with her? Losing Ingrid would be painful enough but if I lost my daughter too, I’d definitely lose my mind. Reach for one of her teddy bears and hug it to my chest, breathing in her scent. I really wish she were here right now. 

I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve called everyone I could possibly call but no one knows a thing. We’ve tested all damn day and I was barely able to keep my mind off of it. I can’t help thinking how close I am to L.A., how close to Hollywood and the nightclub that Dave owns. I’m so angry with myself right now that I want to go down there and kick his ass to make myself feel better. This is partially his fault, after all. Not that beating the crap out of him is going to make up for what happened. It’s already over and done with and there’s no way to go into the past and change things. God, I wish I had a time machine. I wish I knew where the hell my wife is. I think that’s bothering me more than anything else right now. I can handle her being mad at me. I can’t handle not knowing if she’s okay, if she’s lost somewhere or something. I really wish she’d call just to hang up on me as soon as I pick up. At least I’d know she’s alive.

Out of pure exasperation, I snatch my phone off the arm of the couch and dial her number for at least the hundredth time. Sigh softly as I count the rings, not at all surprised when I get her voicemail after the fifth one. The sound of her voice still gives me butterflies. I take a breath to calm myself and wait for the tone before rushing into a panicked babble begging her to call me and at least tell me she’s alive, if nothing else. Not once do I apologize or try to make excuses for what I’ve done. I did that enough on the other seventeen messages I left her that she probably hasn’t even listened to yet. Or she deleted them all without even bothering to listen. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Were it me in her shoes, I probably wouldn’t want to listen to them either.

Before I can toss the phone back on the coffee table, it starts to ring and I nearly jump out of my skin. I can’t believe it! She’s calling me back! Flip it open without checking the ID, a smile breaking out on my face, “Ingrid? Baby, I’m so--”

“Wishful thinking, Gordo. It’s Dave.”

Instantly, the cloud over my head returns, darkening my mood ten times more than it was to begin with. I can’t believe he even has the nerve to think of calling me! After all that he’s put me through, who the hell makes him think he has the right to talk to me? I grip my phone so tightly I can hear it protesting under the pressure and have to force myself not to break it. Through clenched teeth I manage to spit out a reply, “What. Do you. Want. Navarro?”

“Is that any way to treat the man who gave you the best sex of your life? C’mon now, Gordo, stop pretending like you’re not happy to hear from me!” He chuckles softly and it occurs to me that he has no idea what happened after I left his room that night. I never bothered to inform him that our night of debauchery led to my wife walking out on me. My grip loosens on the phone and I take a breath to calm myself.

“I’m not happy to hear from you, Dave. At all. In fact, you’re the last person I want to hear from. Ingrid found out what happened and she left me, Dave. She’s gone. She won’t answer her phone, she won’t return my calls, I don’t even know where the hell she is. For all I know she’s left the country and taken our daughter with her. So, no, I’m not happy in the least to hear from you right now,” My voice is surprisingly calm and even as I explain to him what happened. Rub my forehead as I squeeze my eyes shut, praying the impending headache goes away quickly.  
There’s a long silence on the other line and for a moment I wonder if maybe the call dropped. Before I can check my screen I hear him clear his throat and then, so softly I can barely hear him, he starts to talk again, “Shit, Jeff. I’m…I’m so sorry. I never should have forced you to come back to the room with me. Is there anything I can do? Any way I can try to get in touch with her or something?”

The fact that he actually wants to help me is enough to knock me off my feet. I can’t believe how quickly his mood’s changed. He went from wanting to seduce me over the phone to wanting to help me put my marriage back together in less than a minute. If he’s honest, though, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have someone around to help me get through this. After all, no one but him truly knows exactly what happened that night. Maybe if I can somehow get him to talk to Ingrid, she’ll come around and give me a chance to explain myself. No more lies, I have to come clean about everything, even if it kills me.

“Dave…would you mind coming to the track for a couple days? I think…I think I could use the company.”

I really hope I don’t regret this.


End file.
